


Code Red

by Merit



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-22 06:05:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17657318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merit/pseuds/Merit
Summary: Jason had been out of town for a few weeks.





	Code Red

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fieldofyellowdandelions](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fieldofyellowdandelions/gifts).



Tim ran across the roof of a building and when he reached the edge, he didn’t hesitate before jumping. Gotham flashed below him, a technicolor paradise of brazen neon signs, smog drifting through the streets, clouding the lights. Then, legs pumping below him - never the grace of Dick, never the sheer strength of Jason, _never_ \- he landed, the tread of his boots sliding roughly against the grimy concrete.

His breath caught in his throat, Gotham in his lungs, cape whipping around his arms. He sensed, rather than saw, the other figure on the roof and barely had a moment to react before the man launched at him. Fists up, cape snapping in the wind, Tim was dodging punches before he realized it was Jason.

Or someone else was running around Gotham wearing that ridiculous red hood, but Tim suspected Jason wasn’t going to let anyone survive that tale.

“What’s wrong, little bird?” Jason asked, a cruel parody, and Tim was already rolling his eyes. He ducked a punch, but the edge of Jason’s fist caught along his cheek and he tasted metallic at the back of his mouth. He kicked low, aiming for Jason’s knee, Jason nimbly jumping backwards. Closer to the edge of the building.

Gotham’s streetscape loomed behind him. Buildings like daggers tearing to the sky, cars zooming down below, and always, always the distant sound of sirens. Jason tilted his head back, the light from a beer advertisement hitting his head like an industrial halo.

Tim swallowed blood.

“I haven’t seen you in a while,” Tim said.

“Missed me?” Jason asked, stepping closer, Tim’s gaze catching on his thick thighs, his broad chest. Jason sauntered closer, knowing Tim was watching. Tim cocked his head curiously.

“Where have you been?” Tim said, ignoring the question. He edged backwards, casting a side long look behind him. If Jason had planted any traps, then Tim hadn’t spotted any since he’d landed on the roof. Even when he had been occupied - fighting Jason - nothing had popped out.

“Here,” Jason said, shrugging, “There. Worried boy wonder?”

“Should I have been?”

“Well,” Jason said, spreading his arms expansively, and he wasn’t walking with a limp but he was stiffer around the shoulders. Left, if Tim wasn’t mistaken. “Nothing I couldn’t handle.” Behind the mask, Tim could tell that Jason was grinning, confident, split lip flaring red grotesquely. This close, Tim could imagine almost tasting the copper on his tongue.

There was barely a foot between them now, Tim’s eyes bright behind the mask. And Jason was confident and bold, strength in every line of his body, in the jut of his hip, the broadness of his shoulders.

“Fucking hated those capes, sometimes,” Jason said, and Tim didn’t move an inch as Jason reached out and grasped his shoulder, thick fingers sinking into his skin that was sure to bruise the next day. He wrapped his hand around the cape, dragging Tim closer, til their chests were touching. Despite the armor he was wearing, Tim could have sworn it was near skin on skin.

This close he could smell Jason. Gun oil, sweat and leather. He breathed in, over the smog that choked Gotham’s streets. Under it all, Jason smelled like blood.

“Come on,” Jason said, jerking his head to the north. “My apartment is this way. I’m not putting on a show for Oracle.”

Tim didn’t have to follow him. He could complete his patrol and return to the Batcave. He should tell someone that the Red Hood was back in Gotham, he _should_ -

He jumped off the building, his heart high in his chest, cape flaring in the thick air, as he followed Jason.

 

Jason beat him there. But it was _his_ apartment. He already had the red hood off, leather jacket slung across the back of a creaky old armchair that looked like he had taken it off the side of the street. Knowing Jason, he probably _had_. Jason moved smoothly as he took off his t-shirt, formerly white and Tim wasn’t thinking too deeply about the various stains.

There was a viciously dark bruise spreading like a supernova across his shoulder - left, Tim had been right - spiralling into darkness. Jason hissed as he adjusted his shoulder, scars along his back tensing white, outlined in crimson. At the junction between his neck and shoulder there was a bruise and it looked teeth had been involved.

Tim was burning to ask what had happened, how Jason had gotten injured, what state the people who had hurt him were in but. Jason wasn’t going to answer those questions and then he would have wasted this whole trip.

The sound of Jason’s zip broke his train of thoughts. Tim’s head jerked up. Jason was looking casually over his shoulder, ignoring the pain, the grin on his face filthy.

“You’re not going to keep me waiting, are you?”

Tim shook his head. Tim was nothing if not _punctual_.

“Then get out of that,” Jason said, jerking his head at Tim’s Robin gear. “I’ll have nightmares if you bring that into the bedroom,” he said playfully, but there was an edge to his smile, a dare in his eyes.

When Tim entered the bedroom, he was still in his boxers. The lampshade on the light on the bedside table was crooked, the light splaying across the room unevenly. Jason lay in the middle of the bed, legs open, thick fingers stroking his dick. Jason smiled lazily at Tim, the head of his dick popping obscenely between his fingers, already slick and shiny in the dim light.

“Take ‘em off,” Jason murmured and Tim reacted instantly to the order, hands on his hips, the boxers a puddle of fabric at the feet. Jason smiled approvingly, his scent filling the room, Tim’s mouth watered. “And why don’t you come here?” Jason said, patting the sheets next to him with his free hand.

The sheets were cool, while Jason’s body burned. When Tim got on the bed, Jason loosened his grip on his cock, hands on Tim’s hips. He hovered over Jason, dick twitching higher, Jason’s eyes dark and unreadable below him. Jason lowered him slowly, exquisite skill, absolute torture. When their skin met, Tim gasped and shuddered, reaching out with his hands. Jason’s skin was scar marked and dotted with perspiration. Their cocks brushed and Tim lowered his head, hair brushing against Jason’s forehead. He dug his fingers in and Jason hissed.

The bruise, Tim thought distantly, shifting his fingers.

“No,” Jason said, “Keep it up, boy wonder.” And he smiled at Tim, wicked and smart, like the devil was behind his eyes.

And fuck it, Tim didn’t like to disappoint people, to break expectations. He raised his hips, lining up his cock with Jason’s, and slid down.

Jason groaned, fingers digging into the sharp bones of his hips, “More,” he rasped and Tim was happy to obey.


End file.
